House's Ass
by Known Unknowns
Summary: It needs saving, and it's Wilson to the rescue... as usual.


**House's Ass**

**A House MD Fanfiction**

**Author's Note: Rewatching season seven + boredom = amusing little oneshot. Enjoy! Takes place anytime between "Carrot or Stick" and "Bombshells". Read and review, please.**

* * *

Wilson relaxed on his couch, flipping through the channels, trying to find something decent to watch on a boring Tuesday night. He yawned and stretched and landed on The Real Housewives of New Jersey, a show he was ashamed to admit House had gotten him into.

It snowed lightly outside, the weather better than usual for January. Wilson was enjoying his down time. Most nights he either had to stay late at work or was hanging out with House, and didn't get home until late, and by then he was so tired he just wanted to go to bed.

And that was when his text message tone went off.

_Of course._

He didn't even have to look at the cell's screen to know who it was. It seemed that anytime Wilson wanted to enjoy a night alone, House deemed it the perfect time for male bonding.

He sighed and read the message.

"_What I need is more important than what you're doing_."

In House's mind, anything he did was more important than what Wilson was doing, even if House was cleaning his toilet and Wilson was single handedly saving the free world. Albeit, Wilson wasn't actually doing anything important tonight, he wanted to enjoy not doing anything important. He quickly typed a message back.

"_I highly doubt that_." He said back, trying to deter House from insisting on his presence.

Within seconds he had House's reply. He was an unnaturally fast texter.

"_I'm at Cuddy's_." He said cryptically. Wilson grimaced.

"_I have no interest in hearing of your sexual escapades_." He tapped out, refocusing on the TV. One minute later, his phone buzzed again.

"_I LOST THE KID."_

_Oh fuck._

Wilson remembered now that House wasn't at Cuddy's to be with Cuddy, he was at Cuddy's to baby sit Rachel, because Cuddy had to work late... _and House lost Rachel!_

"_How the hell did you lose Rachel!?" _He sat up on his couch, turning off the TV. He didn't want to involve himself in House's insanity tonight, but if Cuddy's daughter was in danger and he didn't help, he'd never forgive himself.

"_No time, get your ass over here NOW." _Was House's immediate reply. Wilson huffed, standing up and grabbing his coat off of his armchair. He quickly grabbed his keys and slipped on his loafers, and was out the door within two minutes.

He arrived at Cuddy's house fifteen minutes later, and House was waiting outside, looking pale and sick to his stomach.

Wilson thrust open his door and stepped out, swiftly shutting it behind him and trotting up to House. House's eyes were wide, and he looked like he was going to through up rather violently.

"What the hell happened?" Wilson asked. House glanced around and opened the front door, ushering Wilson inside and out of the cold.

"I went to use the bathroom for five fucking minutes, and I came back, and she's gone. I searched the whole house and I couldn't find her anywhere." House said, his voice slightly higher than usual. "No open windows, no open doors, it's like she just disappeared." Wilson gave him a jaded look.

"She's obviously just hiding. Unless she has the ability to walk through walls, she's somewhere in the house." Wilson said, searching Cuddy's living room with his eyes. Multi colored blocks were on the floor, and Chinese takeout was on the table.

"She could have climbed out a window and closed it behind her." House suggested nervously as he lifted up a cushion on the couch, as if expecting her to be there.

"She's three, House." Wilson said, exasperated.

"You'd be amazed at the things I did when I was three." House mumbled, moving into the kitchen and opening the fridge door and cupboards frantically.

"Did you check outside for her?" Wilson asked.

"No, I didn't want to leave the house in case she's still here. That's why I called you over. You're going to stay here while I search the neighborhood for her." House explained as he reached into a kitchen drawer and pulled out a flashlight.

"How long has she been gone?"

"About an hour. I searched everywhere before I called you." He told him, heading to the door.

"How long till Cuddy gets back?" Wilson asked, checking his watch. It was eight thirty.

"Half an hour, forty five minutes tops. If she gets back, and her kid isn't here, she won't _just_ kill me. She'll kill me, reanimate me, and then kill me again. This is life or death." House said, his voice dead serious. "If she calls the house, tell her your diabetes ridden cat died or something and you came here for comfort, and that I'm in the bathroom, okay?" He said, wringing his hands as he darted out the front door without another word, leaving the door hanging open behind him. Wilson shook his head as he walked over and closed it, unable to believe the mess House had gotten himself into this time.

Wilson dropped on the ground to all fours, looking under every surface. When he reached the couch, he laid flat on his stomach, lifting up the skirt of the sofa to see if Rachel was under there.

"Rachel!" Wilson called. "Rachel, if you're hiding, you need to come out _right now_!"

He made sure not to sound like she would be in trouble, because that would only discourage her from coming out if she indeed was inside the house, which Wilson assumed she was. He walked through Cuddy's home, checking every crevice and small place. He checked the cupboard under the sink, every inch of the hall closet, the basement, and every nook and cranny of Rachel's room. There was no sign of the little toddler.

There was only one room in the house left to check, and Wilson was truly dreading it. Unfortunately, he couldn't in good conscience just leave an entire room of the house untouched when Rachel was MIA.

He gulped. He was going to have to explore the horrors of House and Cuddy's love nest.

Why couldn't House just give him one night off from this insanity?

He padded down the hallway, pushing open the door to Cuddy's room. Upon stepping inside, he felt like he was violating her privacy. _I think she'd make an exception considering the circumstances_. He reminded himself.

Wilson checked his watch. Ten minutes had already past. House wasn't back yet and Cuddy would be home frighteningly soon.

He had to find Rachel, and fast, or things would go very, very bad.

He checked the large drawers of the dresser, wincing visibly when he reached Cuddy's underwear drawer, which he quickly slammed shut once he confirmed Rachel was not there. He had to search everywhere, he couldn't skip over anything. He bent and looked under the bed. There was a pair of House's boxers, which he grimaced at.

Wilson suddenly had a flash of memory to earlier in the day, to when House had bent over to pick up his ball when he had dropped it in his office, and Wilson had seen that he was wearing the same gray boxers.

_Dear God, is he going COMMANDO?_

Wilson shook his head to clear his thoughts. _Focus, got to find Rachel_.

Rachel was quite obviously not under the bed. Still on his knees, he looked under every surface in Cuddy's room. He stood up and brushed himself off. He looked behind everything, the bed, the mirror, _everything_.

"Rachel?" He called. "You really need to come out now, House and Uncle Wilson are very worried." He laid his voice thick with sugar, hoping to coax out the three year old, if she was indeed in the house.

And... nothing.

_Son of a bitch._

He had searched the one place he wanted to enter least thoroughly, with the exception of Cuddy's closet. If going in her room was violating her privacy, going into her closet (especially given the fact that she was a woman, making it a sacred place) was basically the equivalent of pissing on an altar.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Bracing himself, he flung open the doors to Cuddy's large closet. He quickly searched through, trying to keep his eyes away from the thong on the floor, and speedily stood up, deciding that she wasn't in the bottom part of the closet. There was, however, a cupboard up above.

He dragged Cuddy's mobile office chair over to the closet and stood on it, so he could peer inside the closet. He didn't understand why a woman of such short stature had a closet almost double her height.

He opened the cupboard, looking around inside. Rachel was not present, unsurprisingly. It would have been one hell of a trick for the little girl to get up there.

He did, however, see a small CD laying on top of a stack of yearbooks.

"House and Cuddy, XXX, the X meaning **SEX**! View at the risk of feeling emasculated and inferior!"

House's untidy scrawl was unmistakable. Wilson stared at it, incredibly unpleasant mental images of House floating into his head. When one particularly nauseating one popped to mind, he quickly pushed back and slammed the cupboard shut, trying to clear his thoughts. Unfortunately, he seemed to push himself back a little too hard, and tumbled off of the chair and slammed into the ground, groaning in pain and bruising his forehead.

Ugh. This night kept getting better and better, didn't it?

He forced himself up, dread filling him. He had searched the entire House, top to bottom. Cuddy's house had no attic, and the basement was microscopic and he had already looked there.

Time was wasting, and House was still outside and Wilson had made no progress in tracking down the missing child.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Wilson muttered, pacing furiously in Cuddy's room and massaging his damaged forehead.

He heard the front door open, and froze. If Cuddy was home, and she found out that House had lost her only child...

He seriously considered hiding in the closet.

Thankfully, his worries were quickly belayed by House calling out from the living room. They were quickly replaced by others as he heard the level of fear and shakiness in his voice.

"Wilson?" He called, his voice cracking. "Wilson, I found her."

Wilson rushed out into the living room, and paled at what he saw. House knelt the middle of the floor, cradling Rachel's small form in his arms. She was ghostly white, her eyes staring off into the distance and her limbs hanging uselessly. House was soaked from the snow, and his eyes shone.

"I found her three blocks away, collapsed in the park. I still don't know how the hell she got out... I guess she wanted to play on the monkey bars or something." He let out a bitter laugh, which turned into a sob that caused him to shake. "She's dead, Wilson." He sagged, looking like he was going to collapse. He took Rachel from him, her blue eyes staring at nothing. They would never look at anything again.

"God," He said, lost for words. He hesitated as a tear leaked down his cheek. Strange, Rachel still felt warm. Maybe from House holding her? But she was dry too, how was she dry if she'd collapsed in the snow?

"...my fault, all my fault!" House cried, falling forward and holding his face, his cane forgotten by the door. Wait, how had he carried the cane if he carried Rachel? And more importantly, how had he limped three blocks without the aid of his cane?

He internally chastised himself for trying to analyze House's actions when he had just found the love of his life's daughter dead under his care.

She was so beautiful, so young, so innocent. How could this happen? And Cuddy was going to come home to find the baby she loved so much forever gone from the world-

"BOO!" Rachel shouted suddenly, her eyes lighting up and smiling widely. Wilson shrieked a high, girlish scream and jumped so high that his feet cleared the ground. Rachel hopped out of his arms and landed nimbly on the floor, giggling.

"We got Uncle Wilson!" She declared. Wilson sagged against the couch, clutching his heart. House's face was still in his hands, and he was still shaking, but Wilson realized now that he was shaking violently not from sorrow, but from near hysterical laughter. Rachel and House high fived once House had gained back a little of his composure.

"We sure did." He agreed. He then pulled a red lollipop that Wilson recognized came from the clinic and handed it to her, ruffling her hair as he did. "Good job, kid. You're a better actor than I am."

"Actress!" Rachel corrected brightly. Wilson gaped at them.

"Where-"

"My car." House answered quickly, pushing himself off of the floor, smiling lazily at him. "You are _so_ gullible. I'm never letting you live this down."

"House! You- you- _you_- you know what?" He stammered, trying to calm his frayed nerves and frantic nerves. He pointed an accusing finger at House. "You are _mean_."

House just smirked at him as he picked up Rachel and placed her on his shoulders.

"House isn't mean!" Rachel protested. "House is nice."

"Can't argue with that, Wilson."


End file.
